SOON AS HE FIGURED IT OUT
by Chick Feed
Summary: Thoughts scrambled, hurting, and there was something missing. - Reader decides who's thoughts are featured, whether Dean or Sam W's.


SPOILERS : None.  
>DISCLAIMER : Only in my dreams.<p>

A.N. Came across a previous short one hit fic and played with it.  
>A re-write of <em>The Missing Ingredient<em>

**SOON AS HE FIGURED IT OUT  
><strong>_Thoughts scrambled, hurting, and there was something missing._

-oOo-

He remembered that, forever ago, he'd set off confidently on foot. Walking tall, comfortable in himself and his surroundings. He recalled feeling ok, didn't think he'd been up to anything dangerous or dumb. Seemed somehow, somewhere along the line, something had changed. Had he done that thing? The one on his hands and knees? Crawl. That was the one. He thought he remembered doing it. Like an idiot, for some reason he'd given up on walking and had a go at crawling instead. He wondered how that had worked out? Had it been a game? A challenge? Was it a dare? He decided he didn't really give a damn. It was done with. Caring about it would need more energy than he felt like giving it. He'd ask his brother how come, soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten to.

Weird though. He knew he'd walked, knew he'd crawled. Couldn't quite figure when he'd decided to lie down though. Or quite why he felt so shitty. Bad beer? Bad day? Bad call? He sensed there'd been a change, something fast, something unexpected. Bad beer most likely then, and he must've had a bucket load of the stuff to have this many blank , what's a little gut rot between friends? Not like it was something he couldn't get over. He'd survive. Might be an idea to lay off the booze for a couple of days though, give his guts a break. Maybe a shower would help? At least stop everything looking so freakin' blurry, like the whole world had been painted by one of those French Impressionist guys. The spotty picture dudes. What's that all about? Spotty pictures? You supposed to join the dots or what? He decided he'd have to check that one out with his brother. Speakin' of. Where _was_ the ding bat? He should be here, helping to get his ass up off the floor and into the shower, like he always did. He'd have to have a word with him, soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten too.

He had a go at lifting his head up off . Never expected it to be such a trial. He'd never wondered about what his head might weigh before. Always just seemed happy to sit there, on top of his neck. He decided his head must've grown recently. He never remembered it feeling like it weighed a tonne before. Not like it did now. He wondered how a person set about finding out what just their head weighed? Avoiding the chopping it off and popping it on a set of scales, obviously. Felt like a question for his brother. He'd have to ask him, soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten to.

Damn Spottyvision was a righteous pain in the ass. How's he supposed to spot. Huh, _spot_. How was he gonna know when his brother came back seeing as how he still couldn't see straight? Definite hitch in the plan that one. And anyway. What did his brother think he was playin' at? Pullin' a disappearing act right when he was needed? He'd be sure to let his brother know what he thought about that, soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten to.

He thought he'd just thought that something-or-other was a hitch in the plan, so that meant he must've had a plan to start with. He didn't think it could've been this though. Lying outside in the dark in something yucky and wet on the floor with a head that weighed a ton? No. That'd so not be one of his best ever plans. A good plan wouldn't hurt. He wished he hadn't brought that one to his own attention, because now he realised that something was hurtin' like a bitch! Way to go! He wondered why his brother wasn't there yet. Gotta be time for him to do his bit now, had more'n enough of this crappy plan an' crappy floor an' crappy guts an' crappy hurt. He wondered what this new hurt was coming from? His head felt like it weighed a tonne. And his guts ached. It wasn't down to those, this new hurt. No. Not them. Something else. Whatever it was, he'd get his brother to make it go away, just as soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten to.

Where the jerk had gotten to. Hadn't he thought that already? So where had the jerk gotten to? What if he'd got stuck lying on the floor as well? Could even have got stuck lyin' on the same floor. If he could see he'd know and then he'd tell his brother to stop pissin' about, once he'd figured out where the jerk...

He stopped himself. Sure he'd had that thought already. Sure he'd had that thought already. Sure he had heard a sound. Sure now he remembered noise. Loud noise, and a cry, and hurts. _Ahhh_ shit, _really_ hurts. Two. A loud bang of a noise. There were two. And he wished somehow they could've been somewhere, anywhere, else. He wished there was something, anything, he could do. But he remembered, and there was nothing could fix it. He knew the new hurt wouldn't go away. Knew it came from his own broken heart, as soon as he figured out where the jerk had gotten to.

-oOo-  
>Thank you for reading. It would be great if you checked out the following current on-going multi-chap case fics:<br>FREAKIN' FRIDAY - Being co-written with the **_awesome _**ncsupernatural.  
>YELLOW BRICK ROAD TRIP - By yours truly (Check out the Munchkins in C11, they made my brain nurdle ;p)<p> 


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